Pix had not eaten anything for three days.
The hospital had drawn his blood, taken X-rays, and run several more tests. Report after report lay before the doctor, until only one conclusion remained.
"Your physical indicators are normal, and there is no blockage in your stomach."
Back at their little villa, Mia sat beside him, clutching Pix's examination report.
"You have to eat something. At least drink a bowl of porridge first."
Pix pressed a hand to his abdomen, his lips dry and cracked.
"I can't eat."
"You haven't eaten for three days."
"I know."
"Then get psychological treatment. The doctor already said that you might have developed an eating disorder because of excessive stress."
Pix looked up at her for a while.
"Whenever I swallow something, another person appears in my head."
Mia frowned.
"Another person?"
"He makes me throw up whatever I eat."
Pix swallowed, and a hollow rumble came from his stomach.
"Sometimes, he even whispers in my ear, telling me not to eat."
Mia picked up a glass of water and handed it to him.
"The voice you hear comes from yourself."
"I thought so too."
Pix took the glass but did not drink.
"But he thinks differently from me."
Mia did not respond.
"He won't let me eat, but he keeps moving around inside my stomach."
"Pix, you need to see a psychiatrist."
"I have."
"Then keep seeing one."
"You think I'm crazy?"
Mia pressed a hand to her forehead.
"I think your current condition needs treatment."
"You're just saying something's wrong with my mind."
"Because there really is—"
The plate smashed against the wall, shards scattering across the floor.
Mia froze.
Pix stood beside the dining table, his chest heaving violently. He stared at the broken porcelain all over the floor, his Adam's apple